Alone
by TheRustyJellyfish
Summary: In a world where a new threatening disease has been unleashed upon Earth, how does humanity react? this story follows the life of Jake Xam as he tries to restore order in an apocalyptic world.
1. The New world

I ran. That was what my brother told me to do. Before he died. As I ran behind the rusting car that time had forgotten, an explosion threw me off balance. It was ten seconds before I realized that I was shielding my face with my arms. As I slowly moved the shield of flesh from my face, I peeked out just enough to see that the car in front of me was on fire. My eyes widened, and I backed up, slowly at first, but then with the realization that the automobile in front of me was going to explode, I broke into a sprint. Running away from the imminent danger. Should I have been surprised when broken yellow hands grabbed me, dragging me to the ground? As I fell to the ground, wildly shooting my gun, the last thing I saw was that cursed car finally explode.

Sorry, I guess we didn't get to know each other very well. My name is Jake Xam.

What're you laughing at? My last name? Anyway, I don't know where the others went. Or anyone, for that matter. In fact, it seems that I'm the last person on earth to survive this apocalyptic scene. Fires are everywhere. The ground is singed black and very few patches of grass dot the ground. Sad little flowers try to poke out of the hard ground. The sky is a dirty brown, and clouds are dark orange. Sounds like a bad zombie movie, right? In fact, after months of debate, I decided that these things are zombies. They walk in a stumble. They moan like hell whenever they see anything alive. They do physically impossible things like walk underwater, something a live human would never do. The disease isn't limited to people, though. Dogs, cats, even fish. That's right, fish. Once I saw a half rotted fish swimming around in its fish tank. Hell, once I've even seen a zombie fly. Yup, saw it dragging its poor little legs around the dining table. Not much of a threat, though. Just squish it and be on with your life.

About five years ago, I was just sitting at a table, eating breakfast, when it came. In the movies, you see them get a little bit of warning before the zombies come. You know, a news report, a phone call, anything like that. Not so here. I was just sitting there, eating my nerdy little Frosted Flakes when they shattered through the windows. At first I thought the thing was dead, but then the strangest thing happened. It looked up at me with yellow lifeless eyes and moaned. Well, I just sat there like a retard while the thing tried to free itself from the window. I wasn't stupid, and I knew that thing wasn't here to play tag with me. On a sudden burst of adrenaline, I just grabbed a carving knife and charged at it like Rambo. I stuck it right between the temples of its head. I swear, you don't understand how hard a human skull is until you stab it with a carving knife. The thing just shuddered and ceased all movement. I've seen enough zombie movies to know that where there's one, there are others. I ran frantically around the house, grabbing anything I might need. Knives. Hammers. Food. My pet snake. After I had gathered this mish-mash of items I might need to survive this new threat, I went to the cluttered garage and pressed the button that opened the noisy, creaky garage door. As it creaked open, more and more of the real world started to appear to me. I hurried out to my dusty old Ford Explorer and fitted the key into the lock. As the ancient engine roared to life, I backed out of the driveway and onto the street. I was immediately amazed at what I saw. These things were everywhere. Some appeared to have died long ago; maybe, a couple of weeks. Some appeared to have just risen. Like any other normal human being on the planet, this freaked me out. Not thinking of the consequences, I stomped the gas and tore out of the street, crushing the once-human predators beneath the wheels. As I sped away from the infested zone, my albino corn snake, Jerry, raised his head and looked at me quizzically. I looked back into his deep red eyes.

As I sped along highway 101, just as I had thought, there was no one on the highway. This was starting to freak me out more and more. As the distance between me and the next town closed, it became more and more obvious how many of these people were infected. Some just lie on the ground moaning; their guts spilling out like confetti; a twisted looks of pain and sadness on their faces. I saw some of them on the road, but I just crushed most of them. As I looked into the rearview mirror, I saw that most of them weren't dead. Most of them had shattered spines, now just crawling around. I shifted my gaze back towards the road. As I winded through the now hilly terrain, I looked at a nearby sign: Grass Valley, 5 miles ahead. And sure enough, about 30 minutes later, I saw another sign saying: Welcome to Grass Valley. I pulled into a nearby conveinence store, and kept the key in the ignition. Never know when I might need to flee. I opened the door of the car, and at the same time, in one fluid motion, I picked up the hatchet that was lying on the floor. I began walking towards the old rusty door. When I got close enough, I tried to open it. It was locked. I broke off the lock with the hatchet, and making quite a racket, I stepped inside the store. It was just a small store, maybe 15'x17'. I stepped behind the counter and vigorously rummaged through the possibly deceased person's possessions. A porn magazine; a cigarette butt; three empty beer cans, and after a couple minutes of disgusting searching, I found what I was looking for, which was a box of ammo and a .357 Magnum. As I brandished the weapon, as if on cue, I heard a low moan. I slowly walked through the isles; dairy, clothes, cigarettes and tobacco, and finally, there he was, lying there and moaning like he had been too tired to notice me come in. I softly said, "Hey." The man looked up, not in surprise, but as if he had been expecting me. "Hello," the middle-aged man said in a raspy voice. "Have you been bitten?" I asked very point blank. "No... But the others, they were." He pointed towards isle 7, cigarettes and tobacco. I crept towards the isle the man had pointed to, and upon arrival, found a pile of dead bodies. As an involuntary response, I vomited. I hurried back towards the man. "How did you kill them?" I asked. He replied, suddenly irritated," Every man with a bit of damn knowledge of zombies knows you got to kill the brain to kill the zombie." This didn't come as a surprise to me. "I know how to kill one, but I'm asking you how you did it." "Oh." He pointed towards a blood-encrusted hammer. "You have a gun?" I asked. "Yeah." He grunted with the strain of getting up. As we walked towards the back, he said, "The name's Que. Que Robertson." "Mine's Jake. Jake Xam." We reached the back. He pulled out a key and opened a rather large safe; it was about a foot taller than me. Out of it he pulled a Colt M1911. But it didn't stop there. He pulled out also a long-handled axe, several Molotov cocktails, and some huge pointy-looking knives that were so long they could have been swords. "Let's roll," Que said with a little too much confidence.

After we had loaded all the secondary weapons into the back, Que was now sitting in the passenger seat and Jerry in the back. Poking his head out of his cage, he looked slightly irritated.

I looked over at Que. He was probably about 43. He had a mustache and balding brown hair, which he covered up with a San Francisco Giant's hat. He was lean and muscular, and he wore a dusty red oversized sweatshirt. As we drove into town, I parked in front of a thrift shop. "We need a plan." I said abruptly. "You're the first person I've seen in 26 hours. I thought I was the last person alive." Que kept looking forward as he said, "Well, son, from the way you saved me, I'd say you've got a knack for helping people. Why don't we gather survivors?" And the moment he said that, our destiny was locked. Que, Jerry and I were all going to help crush this zombie infestation. I got out of the car. I didn't keep it running; I'd need to save gas. Fortunately, there was another car next to us and the keys were in it. Unfortunately, there was an obviously infected person curled up in the passenger seat. Shivering and sweating, she clearly had scratch marks on her neck. "Hey J, you better come see this," Que shouted from the other side of the car. As I walked around, I noticed that he had the trunk standing open. As I peeked inside, what I saw was horrible. At least a dozen zombie heads were severed and inside the trunk. Still thrashing around, they starting hissing when they saw us. Obviously this person had been a zombie fighter. Too bad she got infected before we could enlist her. Realizing the only good thing to do, I went to the truck and got out two weapons; the Magnum, and a hatchet. First I approached the front car window and pointed the gun at her head. With one shot it went clean through the windows and into her skull. All movement ceased. Putting the Magnum back into the car, I walked over to the trunk and gave Que the hatchet. Since neither of us wanted to waste bullets, he just raised the hatchet and brought it down, one by one, until nothing in the car moved. After dragging out all the cadavers and burning them with some alcohol and a match, we watched the flames engulf the bodies. We watched until the fire died down and nothing remained but bones. When this gruesome victory party had come to an end, I turned to Que. "We need to find other survivors." He nodded and got into our newly possessed car. "We'll meet back here at 10:00!" I shouted. Sticking his hand out of his window, he gave me a thumbs-up to show that he had understood. As he drove away, to some other part of town, I knew that might be the last time I see him.

I didn't take the truck. It would make too much noise. Instead I found an abandoned Schwinn, picked the lock with one of the swords, and I was off. Besides the Scwinn I had the Magnum, (I guess Que had taken the Colt) and several Molotovs. This all went into my backpack, as well as Jerry did. I rode all around town, looking for a place that would be most inhabited. Eventually I saw a hotel but then assumed that would take too much time to sweep. My search continued. Soon after, I found an antique store that was just small enough to suit my needs. I put the bike outside, it wasn't like anyone would steal it. As I walked into the little shop, bells rang on the door. It was a cute little shop. I might have taken some more time to shop if a full-blown zombie invasion hadn't been going on. I crept through the displays of earrings, china plates, and other assorted items. Near the gift cards, I found a young boy. He couldn't have been older than 13. His back was turned to me. He was at the display case of jewelry, loading what appeared to be a shotgun. Suddenly, he whirled around. Now that I saw him face to face, he was probably 11. He was tall and strong as well as having long black hair that covered his eyes. He wore a black hooded sweatshirt. From the look on his face when he saw me, He probably would have killed me if he wasn't observant enough to notice that I was human. "What are you doing here?" He asked rather violently. "Sweeping the town for survivors, and it looks like you're one of them." At that moment, he seemed to relax. "My name is Max Houghton." He stuck his hand out. "Jake Xam." I shook his hand. He looked at me strangely. "What?" I asked. "Your last name is my first name backwards," he said. "Whatever. Now, we need to sweep the town. Isn't that gun a little big for you, fellow?" He turned around and fired. The porcelain teacup that had been on the display case suddenly shattered into pieces. "I've got good aim."

Five minutes later, Max and I were searching the town for survivors and/or zombies. As we turned onto Lomitas Ave, we suddenly found ourselves surrounded by zombies. I counted 12 in total. 3 on each side of us. I had kind of been hoping for this kind of action. I pulled out my magnum and let loose on the creatures. Max, with his shotgun, could do damage but suddenly shouted," They're not dying!" "You have to destroy their brain!" I shouted over the sound of flying lead. After he knew that, he was nearly unstoppable. When the dust cleared, we had won. But it appeared that the sound of gunfire had attracted more monsters. And their numbers had just about doubled. Knowing this was too much, I grabbed a Molotov from my backpack. I lit it, and threw it at the nearest zombie. Since the zombies were closing in and were brushing against each other, the fire found its way from one zombie to the next. They all began to drop. By the darkening sky and the time on my watch, I saw it was time to meet Que back at the meeting point.

10:10 P.M. We were ten minutes late. As we neared the meeting point I said to Max, "Just let me do the talking." We pulled up to the truck in front of the thrift store. I said to Que, "I found one survivor." Que then pointed towards the car where there was a thirty-something man who looked very timid. "Did ya get any zombies?" "About 35." Que's eyes bugged out. "What? I didn't encounter a single soul except Jared here." "Well, isn't that strange," I said, rolling my eyes. "On more PRESSING matters, who's going to take the first watch?" "I will." Jared rose from the car. With him he brought an SMG. My eyes nearly vomited at the sight of this. "Why is it that during a zombie outbreak everyone suddenly has heavy weaponry?" "Must be the author." "What?" "Nothing."


	2. Overrun

Chapter 2

Overrun

As I sat on top of the Ford, I watched the sunset. It turned orange, then red, then a dark purple, and then, it was dark. Darkness that sends shivers down your spine. And I've seen enough zombie movies to know that zombies prefer the dark. Good thing Jared had that SMG; I knew that we were going to be overrun by zombie in an hour or so. I jumped off the car. Walking over to Que, I said, "Did you find any food or water?" "Barely. Only a water bottle and a pack of crackers." I sighed and replied, "Maybe all of us should take watch. What if ten zombies come, or twenty, or even fifty? Jared can't handle them all." Que gave a nervous glance around." Maybe you're right. We'll have three people keep watch. But we should have a code." "What?" "You know, if the watch sees a zombie they shouldn't start spraying lead. No need to attract other zombies if that one could have been killed with a hatchet." "Right. Jared!" Jared looked down at me from on top of the car. "What?" "When you're keeping watch, try to count the number of zombies. Also, don't use guns unless you absolutely have to!" Jared nodded.

Night. The dark was even darker than it had been when it was dark before... Wait, what? As Jared, Max and I sat on the roof of the car, the darkness was a little bit unnerving. I could barely see your hand in front of my face! What if a zombie was in front of my face? I shuddered. We had it all worked out. Three people would keep watch, and if one person nodded off, we would wake up the person sleeping in the car. Having a plan was reassuring, but I was still wondering what would happen when the zombies eventually would come. Which I was sure they would. Hours passed. Eventually the streetlights turned on, which was a bit of an improvement. 12:06: Jared started closing his eyes. He said it was nothing, but we told him to sleep anyway. 12:10. Que is with us on the roof. 1:00: Everyone say they're fine. But I'm worried about Max. They say kids need like 8 hours of sleep....

2:00: We hear the first zombie. She looks like she's been dead a while; maybe 4 weeks. Silently, I grab one of the swords on the roof and run towards the decomposing woman. I gripped it and jammed it into her eye socket. In the movies, when someone dies, they drop to their knees and utter their last romantic words. Well, when I stuck this lady, she just drooped to the ground, so that I was practically holding her up with the sword. Ew. I withdrew the weapon and returned to the car, feeling very accomplished. 3:50: We're surrounded by zombies. I don't know what happened. Jared fired off a single shot at a zombie and twenty minutes later, we're surrounded by fifty zombies. Good thing we're on top of the car. They were dropping fast, but for every shot we fired it seemed that three others appeared! Then, I had a plan. I grabbed a Molotov and jumped on the Schwinn. I pedaled as hard as I could, making as much noise as possible. When I got about 100 feet away from the rest of the team, and the majority of zombies were headed my way, I threw the first Molotov in the air and shot it so that the alcohol splattered over some of the zombies. Then I threw the second and shot it in the air. And so on. When I had covered nine tenths of the monsters in the alcohol, the nearest zombie was at least ten feet away from me. This didn't concern me. I got a lighter from my pocket, taped the trigger down, and threw it. It hit the zombie and, as quick as you can snap your fingers, the whole crowds of zombies were in inferno. After about 15 seconds of being on fire, the zombies started to drop. After the last zombie dropped, I kept staring at the remains for at least an hour. Que walked over and put a hand on my shoulder. I glanced at him and saw that he was pointing towards the horizon. The orange-yellow glow told us that we would have no more zombie skirmishes. As we basked in the light, hunger stole upon us. Water had to be rationed out carefully. The crackers were stale and some of them were growing mold. I think that Que found them in the garbage, although he would never sink so low as to say so.

We need to spread out. As well as things were going here, we had to help people elsewhere. It had been two weeks since Que and I had driven into Grass Valley that first night. Since then the population had grown; we now had 4 other people, and a lot more assorted vehicles including: a motorcycle, a moped, a bike, and a skateboard. The population had grown so much that I think things would run smoothly by themselves from now on. I approached Que. As I pulled him away from the conversation he was having with Wille Sanches, (one of the new residents,) he looked at me and saw that I had news to bear. "We need to spread out." Que looked at me with a surprisingly accepting expression and said, "I know." "With us gone, we can put Wille in charge. Besides you, he's got the most experience with guns and hand-to-hand." "Okayyy..." "It's settled, then. I'll go get a map from the store down the block."

I came back with a map that showed the surrounding town. (Email me at and I'll email you a picture of the map yea, it's free :D) By the looks of the map, to the northwest of us there was a town called ChapelWest. It might not have been the best choice, but it was the nearest town. So, as Que, Max and I set off to ChapelWest, we left Wille there in charge, looking quite bewildered.


	3. Gain Ground

Chapter 3 Gain Ground As we set out in Que's dusty old car, I started to notice a certain lack of life. Not just human, most of those had been eaten, but there was a certain stillness to nature. No birds or anything. Max seemed especially spooked by it. "Have you noticed a lack of activity around here?" Max said, casting one more nervous glance around. "Yeah..." I answered, trailing off. Que spoke but didn't look back at us. "It's a bad sign..." "And why would that be?" I asked, although I think I already knew the answer. "Means there are more zombies up ahead. They've stripped the land of life." I sighed. Looking around, I saw a few barren cactuses, seemingly not minding the changes that had come to the world. Oh, right. They're plants. Dismissing that stupid thought from my brain, I looked back at him. "That wouldn't be good. We don't have so much ammo." He looked at me with a 'Duh, I already knew that' expression. I narrowed my eyes. I looked into the back of the car. Max's back was to us now, shooting wildly at what I assumed were zombies. I climbed into the back to help him. Looking back at what was coming at us, I saaw the thing that I least expected to see. Other humans. I looked at Max in bewilderment. He looked at me back with a pleading expression. One that said, 'They're not friendly'  
They were closing in fast. A shot rang out. Que's car started to skid on the ground. Swerving about, another shot came. Two tires down. Que was desperate. If the car could have ridden wheelie, I'm sure that he would have tried it. Once more, I heard a loud pinging sound. Looking at the right side of the car, I saw gasoline pouring out. My eyes widened. These guys wanted us dead. Suddenly, the roar of motorcycles stopped. I looked back and saw the gang getting smaller and smaller as we got farther away. Suddenly, I understood. The lead motorcyclist took a match out of his jacket, lit it, and threw it on the trail of gas. "Hit the deck!" I screamed, as I saw the fiery fuse get closer and closer. With a sickening skidding sound, the car shuddered to a stop. Que kicked open his door, and rolled out. Max, being a little overdramatic, broke the window and jumped out. Frantically, I was trying to get out the same window hole when the fuse grew short. I squeezed my eyes shut. This wasn't going to be pretty. I woke up with my leg throbbing. I couldn't see,I was blindfolded. I was tied to a metal chair and I felt like my hands were bound as well. I hear a heavy door open, then close. I hear a guy lumber in and start doing different tasks around the room. Footsteps. I hear him coming closer and closer to me. Suddenly, I feel a huge wave of cold water roll over me. I gasp. He probably already knew that I was awake, just liked seeing me flop. He ripped off the blindfold. I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the bright light. I was looking into the face of a man about thirty. He had brown bloodshot eyes, a goatee, slicked back black hair, and broken yellow teeth. He sneered down at me, obviously not caring what I thought of him. "Hey," He said in a cracked voice. I said nothing, only stared at him with hatred in my eyes. He returned the look tenfold. In a voice so cracked and whispery I wasn't sure it was mine, I said, "What do you want from me?" He stretched up to his full height and grinned. Then he simply strode away to the other side of the room. He continued to talk with his back to me. "You aware of what's going on, 3?" I wasn't sure why he called me 3, but I replied with a sneer and said, "You think that I would be riding in a car at 80 mph along a highway with a shotgun and two other guys if I didn't know what was going on?" His weak smile turned into a frown. He slowly approached me, bending down on his knees. He looked at me for a moment then struck me so hard I wheeled back in the chair. I gasped for air and tasted blood. He grabbed my chin. "You think I'm playing 'round? You'll answer my questions, and you'll do it respectfully or pretty soon you'll find yourself in 4 different places at once." I shuddered. "Now, I'll ask you once more," he looked at me, then went on: "do you know what's going on?" "I looked at him, and not fancying the taste of my blood at the moment, said "There are undead flesh eating creatures eating every living creature on the planet." He paused, as if he had expected a less in-depth description. "Good. Now, in the midst of all ths' chaos, we're trying to create a community." He sounded like he was trying to convince me that he was out to help people. "But to have a community, you need people. And I'M smart enough to know that there's more people in your group." My heart gave a jump. Had they found Que and Max? "You just gotta find 'em for us." With a sudden burst of white-hot anger, I exclaimed, "You try to sound like you're colonizing the moon! But I know what you're after! You're no better than vultures, feeding off of the remains of civilization!" He looked at me with wide eyes, wondering why I was crazy enough to speak like that again. Without another word, he walked across the room, stomped his boot on my bare foot, and twisted it around. A world of pain opened up for me then. Between flashes of white-hot pain, I saw him angrily stride out of the room. On the other side of the door, I heard certain tidbits of conversation. "Not giving up..." "project must continue..." "Better off dead..." The last bit made my eyes open up. They didn't care what happened to me. 


	4. Just Keep Running

Chapter 4 Just keep Running

I looked out at the rusty room I was being held in. I had to get out. I was looking around the room for anything that could help me escape when the door opened. I held my breath. A different person stepped in this time. Tall and lean, he wore a gray grungy sweatshirt with the hood pulled over and the drawstrings pulled. He said nothing; he walked over to me, looming over my body. (Which was feeling smaller and smaller, me being intimidated by this giant.) I stared up at him, daring him to hurt me in spite of myself. He leaned very close, and instead of a steely pipe over the head or brass knuckles against my face, I instead felt his hot breath and three words that I will never forget. "Just keep running." He rasped the three words into my ear as if they were poison. He untied me from the slick metal chair and made no move as I got up and walked towards the door. I opened the iron door, hearing the squeak of decades of rust on its hinges. Still he made no move. I quietly stepped outside.... Into one of the most horrific things I've ever seen in my life. I saw dozens of rooms in front of me, all holding a different mutation. Looking into one, a man scuttled like a crab from one shadow to another. In another, a woman sat in the middle of the room with yellow eyes and tattered clothes. I looked away. I had seen enough. I continued down the hall where the flourescent lights lit the dingy walls. I came to the end; a single door. I kicked it open, and stepped outside to the horrible truth. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but road. Sunbaked, cracked road. The sun beat down overhead, a little distraction from the truth. I was completely alone. Again.

I walked back into the building. I had no choice. It seemed that the personnel who had tormented me only a short day before had all gone. I walked down the hall, passed the quietly weeping women, past the freaks of nature these people had created. I opened the door to the room that I had been in before. The man with the gray sweatshirt still sat there, head bowed. "Where am I?" This was a common question for me now. He looked up. "Nowhere." I stared at him. "Nowhere? We are in nowhere?" He looked down again "We are nowhere. We have always been here, and always will." He tapped the ground with his foot. "No escape." This guy was obviously harmed. His brain cracked and twisted beyond reality by cruel treatment. I sighed and walked towards him. I would have put my arm around him, but he kind of freaked me out. "Do you have a name?" "Don't have one, don't need one." He whispered the words slowly, as if they might harm me if he said them too fast. "I had one once, long long time ago. So long ago." He looked at me with yellow eyes. "So long ago." I didn't tell him this, but I was going to think of his name as Grey, because of his sweatshirt. "Come on." I grabbed the arm of his sweatshirt. He got up slowly, and started to follow me. After walking down the Hall of Freaks, Grey and I reached the door. He stared at it in disbelief, as if he didn't know there had been a door there ever. I opened it with a creak. He cautiously stepped outside, looking around. While he looked around, I surveyed the building. About 100 feet away from us, I saw an old dirtbike. I walked towards it, and saw it was well stocked with gas and water. "Grey!" I shouted his nickname without meaning too. But before I could react, he looked up. Oh well. "Come over here!" He shuffled towards me across the dry desert. I got on the bike and motioned for him to get on the back. He obeyed like a little puppy. This guy needed help. Fortuneately, I knew who to go to to get it. I revved the bike, and set out down the freeway. 


	5. Sunbaked

Chapter 5 Sunbaked

As I tore across the highway, it began to occur to me really how far away I was from Que and the others. After an hour or so of riding, I came across some territory that could have been familiar to me. I just kept going on. The landscape rolled by, but I couldn't really focus on anything. My mind kept turning over the possibilities that could go wrong. Maybe they had lost hope in me, and kept going on? Maybe without me, they turned on each other. Maybe they had already succumbed to zombies. I shook my head and came out of that train of thought. I decided to try to find them, wherever they were. I kept riding. The sun beat down hot on our heads, cracking our skin as well as the road. At roughly 80 mph, (according to the spedometer) we were speeding down the highway. Then, I saw a dot in the distance. At first I thought it was zombies or maybe another motorcycle gang, but as we got closer, I saw that it was too big to be human. We came to a screeching halt in front of it. Then, a shock ran through my body, for I knew what this was. This was Que's car.  
I stared at the broken mangled car in stunned silence. Grey looked at the car, seemingly unimpressed. "You all right?" The raspy familiar voice of Grey jolted me back into reality. "Y...Yeah..." He motioned for me to get back on the motorcycle. I agreed with him. At least now I knew I was on the right track. I jumped on and revved the engine a few times. It took off down the road. Not shortly after that disturbing discovery, I saw a sign. The letter were worn, the green background paint chipping away. But it was clear enough to see what it said. 'Charston 20 mi. north'. Considering I had just seen Que's car back there, they must have headed for this town. I look back on that now, wishing they hadn't. I put on a pair of darkened sunglasses I found in the pocket of a dead guy about eighteen miles back. It was halfway through the remaining two miles when I heard the moans. I screeched to a halt, making a skid mark on the road. I squinted through the morning fog and saw maybe sixteen silhouettes, made even darker by the white fog that surrounded them. In a barren wasteland such as this, it was unlikely that such a large group of people would be traveling together. I checked my guns and ammunition. I had a serrated knife, about nine inches long. I also had a Colt M1911 with me, loaded with twelve bullets. In addition to that I had a crowbar that had been loaded on to the motorcycle. I handed Grey the crowbar. Then, I looked back up. What I saw made me need a new pair of pants. The previously far away silhouettes were now much closer. Focusing, I saw they were running. Running! I put on my sunglasses, revved the engine, and whispered into Grey's hooded ear, "Hold out your crowbar." I took off. The crowbar whipped one guy right in the forehead, brains flying everywhere. Another lady was torn in half by the thick piece of metal. Now, these zombies might have learned to run, but they were still dead. These guys 'ran' at maybe six MPH. That was hardly a contest to the ninety MPH of the motorcycle. As I pushed through the dead, rotting flesh, I saw in front of me the last thing I wanted to see. More zombies.  
There were even more of them this time. maybe forty or more. I was awestruck. So much so I could barely talk. But when I did, all I could say was: "We're dead." My vision might have come true, if not for an armored vehicle plowing through the zombies. I smirked. Then grinned. Then, I started to laugh. And there I was, laughing like a maniac while reanimated corpses sturggled towards me to eat my flesh. Grey looked around, his yellow eyes unblinking. All of a sudden, he poked me. I looked at him, still wiping tears of laughter from my face. "What?" I looked, and saw him pointing. I followed his gaze to find the car plowing towards us. I screamed. This might be the end.  
I heard the car's tires screech on the ground. It stopped right in front of our noses. Then, the car door opened. I looked up to see Max's face. Well, part of it. His mouth mouth was covered up with a black bandana. "Get in!" Boy, I didn't need to be told twice. I was in the car before he finished the sentence. 


	6. Grey Clouds

We rolled along the highway in silence. Just complete silence. This irked me, because there was always something to talk about, especially when an infectious zombie disease was spreading across the globe. But there were no words. Nobody said anything. The only sound was the clank of the heavy duty tires clanking across the road.  
I glanced at Max. His face was riveted in concentration, his eyes grim and staring at something beyond. I decided not to bother him. I chuckled. Que looked at me from the front of the truck. "What?" "It's just kind of stupid," I said, my eyes now fixed on the middle aged man. He laughed but didn't smile. "How long did it take you to figure that out?" I would have replied but didn't. I just sighed and looked at the ground. Ten seconds later, a hand poked me to get my attention. I looked up to the face of Max. "Who's he?" He gestured at Grey. "I wish I knew." "Does he talk?" I thought about this. "He can if he wants to. He's kind of autistic." Max nodded. He glanced at Grey again. "God, he might not talk, but he sure watches." I didn't need to look to know what Max was talking about. Even from where I was sitting, I could feel his yellow eyes boring sizzling holes in my flesh. I winced, and touched my back just to make sure that that metaphor hadn't come true.  
We turned in to a 7-Eleven. "Gotta get some gas," Que said with an out-of-context wink. We all got out anyway. I needed to feel the ground under my feet. When Que said 'get gas' he meant 'get gas'. I looked over to see him siphoning gas from a battered gray Volkswagen Bug. I sighed and realized there are no laws in zombie land. I motioned for Grey and Max to follow me in the store. I tossed an old rusty section of lead pipe to Grey, who caught in one hand. I beckoned for them to be quiet and follow me. I pushed open the door of the 7-Eleven-  
And all hell broke loose. The alarm went off. I heard the whooping and screeching of the bells above me. I skittered over to the counter, and felt around trying to stop it. Well, a fire axe fell out of my shoulder holster and broke the glass, setting off another alarm. This one was shrill and even louder than the last. I rushed outside, my only thought to warn Que. But it seemed I didn't have to warn him. The only glimpse I caught of him was a blur rushing past me to get to the fire ladder to the roof. I looked around in confusion and saw why. Hundred of zombies, all congregating to our location. I ran inside and yelled at Grey and Max to get on the roof. They ran out the cracked broken door and up the red fire ladder. I did the same and finally got a full view of the reality of what was happening. On the roof, I could see that there were not only hundreds, but THOUSANDS. From any direction on a compass you could point to, there were zombies coming from. And right then, I'm pretty sure that any self confidence I had packed its bags and left me at that moment. There were too many. Too many to shoot, too many to burn, too many to stab. We all sat in the center of the roof in shocked silence. Grey was the first to speak. "Man.... we're done! We're dead! They're gonna eat us!" He had a deep rusty voice. He fell to his knees and started hyperventilating. Max got up, walked over, helped him up.... and slapped him. Grey looked more dazed then usual. Max grabbed his rotting gray sweatshirt and yelled, "Quit acting like such a wuss! Believe it or not, I can get us out of this!" This was news to us. Que and I looked at each other quizzicly as if either of us knew what he was talking about. Max threw Grey back on the ground, and walked over to our position. Out of his jacket he pulled a little radio, pulled up its antennae, and tuned to a channel. A fuzzy voice came in, riddled with static. A man's voice said, "If you are hearing this, head to the Charston community center for evacuation. Flights taking at 6:00... 9:00... 12:00..." His voice faded out. As it faded back in, although it was riddled with static, the message was clear. "In exactly nine days time at midnight, Charston will be carpet bombed to remove infected. Please report to evac station..." His voice faded out for good this time, but it didn't matter. We had to try to make it. One day had passed since we had heard that message. But today we were in better spirits because we actually had a plan to fight off the horde. Wait, did I just say that? What I meant was we DIDN'T have a plan and we were completely screwed. I paced the roof nervously. There had to be a way to fight off the horde. When I started on about the fifty billionth lap around the roof, I tripped on something. I opened my eyes to find myself looking at a half rotted face with yellow broken teeth. It hissed at me and tried to reach up to grab my face. I shimmied back with a shudder. Then, I looked at what I had tripped on. When I had tripped on it, a little bit of the paint covering it had come off. I saw that under the brown paint there was chrome. I chipped off more paint and wiped away dirt and saw what I was secretly hoping for. A trap door. I pulled it open and was immediately hit with a stench that would have killed anyone had they not been used to the smell of rotting meat. Meat. I looked inside once more, my eyes burning, and pointed my flashlight in. What I saw was severed pigs. Loins, chops, ribs, the bloody carcasses stared at me through the door. It was gross, but I finally had a plan. Que and I hauled the pigs meat up to the roof. There must have been at least a couple hundred pounds of it in what we took up. We also took up a strange machine that must have compressed the pig into sausage. Before, Que had opened it up, and instantly had a verdict. "There's an air cylinder in there. It has a small opening to let the air pressure decompress when the pig is pressed into sausage. If you plug the air cylinder, the pressure builds up and acts as a spring." Whatever all that had meant, the outcome was satisfactory. Que and I loaded the carcasses into the machine. He flicked it on and it hummed to life. Soon after, I heard grinding. Like metal against metal. And three seconds later, a chunk of pig flew up, over the zombie's heads, and landed maybe three fourths of a mile away. The zombies swarmed after it. We repeated this process for a while, until all the pigs were gone and all the zombies were tearing them apart. Gathering ourselves, we climbed down the ladder and into the car. Que looked back. "You ready?" We all shook our heads no. "Like it matters." He turned the key, the engine roared, and we tore off towards the Charston Community Center. 


	7. Legally Insane

It was silent. Not the kind of silence that you hear when everything is still. It was the kind of silence you hear when everything's dead. I was getting concerned, not just for my own sake, but for humanity's. I hadn't seen a human in days, and that was including zombies. It had gone beyond the point where I was afraid that I would die. It had gotten to the point that I was afraid the world would die. I smiled inwardly. Before the outbreak, I cowered away from deep thoughts. Anything that made me contemplate things I didn't understand I pushed out of my mind. But it was different now. Now, you either thought... or you died.  
I wasn't sure where we were in Charston, and I didn't even know where the community center was. We rolled along the road, each bump rocking us in our seats. I looked back at Max, who was cleaning his double barreled shotgun. He was pretty attatched to that thing. Once I woke up in the middle of the night and saw him cradling it in his sleep and murmuring to himself. I would have asked him about it, but he had a bad temper and plenty of ammunition. A sudden crash behind me jolted me out of my thoughts. I looked behing the seat I was in, and saw that the back right window had been shot- no, smashed open. On the floor lay a brick. I peered out my window, and mouth gaping said, "Son of a..." That's as far as I got, because by then the tidal wave of bricks came crashing down on the car. Dents were made in the top of the car. Que swerved. "We got survivors!" "Angry survivors!" We made what would have been an illegal U-turn on a street. And that was when they started throwing molotovs. At that moment, I could have said a word relating to excrement, but I didn't. Because there was no room for words in what was about to happen next. I heard the crashing of the thick glass on our car, and then I saw the brilliant show of colors flare up in front of me. Que came to a screeching halt, and we all rolled out of the car inhumanly fast. "Run for cover!" Que shouted over the sound of gunfire. We all ran towards a huge building with faded letters over it. We bursted through the doors, and were greeted with an old song. Over the crackling loudspeakers above, we heard The Turtle's 'Happy Together' "you and me..." we walked with a slow pace into the building. "no matter how they toss the dice..." We walked down a long faded hallway with flickering flourescent lights above it. "we're made to be..." We entered a huge room that could have been a cafeteria. And above it we saw the words: 'Charston mental hospital.' "We're in an insane asylum?" Que muttered as we walked down the rows of tables. "Serves us right. Most of us are a little insane anyway." I laughed. I stopped laughing, but only because I heard a gun cock behind my head. "Keep laughing." Said the voice of a woman behind me. "You'll have no reason to laugh pretty soon." She snickered at what she thought was a joke. But I didn't think it was very funny at all. "So happy together..." I stood stock still. Que, Max and Grey stood with their guns pointed to her head. "You're outnumbered," Max said with a bitterness in his voice that was usually reserved for someone who had just punched you in the face. She laughed but didn't smile. "You? Think I'M outnumbered? I happen to know you were just ambushed by a rogue group of survivors. And guess what?..." She pressed her gun closer to my head. "They trust me." As if on cue, dozens of ratty torn people swarmed the room. For every one of us there was five of them. "So go ahead," She said with a sour-sweet note in her voice, "Shoot me." Realizing the frightening logic of her insanity, my friends put down their guns and slid them towards her. "Take them away." She said with disgust in her voice. As an old man started towards me, she blocked him. "EXCEPT.. him." The old man looked at me, then looked at her, shrugged, and walked away with the receding crowd. "Let's go for a walk." We walked down a dimly lit corridor with dried blood on the floor. "Do you know?" "What?" She stopped walking and looked at me. "The truth." "The truth about what?" She slapped me then and I tasted blood. Fed up with my ignorance, she began talking: "You may have heard on the radio that in nine days Charston will be carpet bombed to remove infected. And if you are uninfected, you should come to the Charston community center for evacuation." I nodded my head with acknowledgement. "LIES!" She screamed. Her talking got angrier and more frantic. "You see, our government is timid. The thought of a reinfection is too much for our fragile civilization to withstand. And so, all people who come to Charston for 'evacuation' will be slaughtered to prevent reinfection." It sounded far fetched, but I wouldn't put it past the officials. Generally they were willing to do anything to maintain order in society. "I happen to know that in two day's time we will be swarmed with a SWAT team to remove all supposedly infected. I will pick You and your friends to be saved from this. You're welcome." She turned and walked off without another word. I wondered if she was telling the truth. But it didn't matter. All I wanted to do was get out of there. 


End file.
